The tingle in my jeans
by krazykitkat
Summary: Briefing in blue jeans. CJ and Danny


TITLE: The tingle in my jeans

AUTHOR: Katrina McDonnell

EMAIL: PG-13

SPOILERS: None.

DISCLAIMER: The West Wing and its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers, and NBC. Title from lyrics by Bird York (aka Andi Wyatt). No Copyright Infringement is intended. I will put them back slightly disheveled.

ARCHIVE: Sure, but please ask first.

FEEDBACK: Much appreciated.

THANKS: To Athena for editing and convincing me not to scrap it. And Rhonda for lines and her wonderful brainstorming so long ago.

SUMMARY: Briefing in blue jeans.

* * *

"You should brief in blue jeans." 

She hid her grin before rising from her squatting position and turning around. "Really? You think it would help my credibility?"

"Don't ask me." His eyes swept down and back up her body. "But I know I wouldn't miss a second."

The blatant look of desire sparked a parade of tingles all heading south. She needed to get her mind and his eyes on something else. "What are you doing here?"

Danny pointed back towards the office area at the back of the pressroom. "I forgot something I needed for an article."

"You do know it's Sunday, right?"

"Do you?"

She looked down at the folders and papers spread out across the floor and smiled. "Yeah, well. It's quiet in here so I'm doing some catching up."

"And it's easier to avoid everyone than if you were in your office?"

"Exactly. It's rather private when there's no news." That look again. She shifted and the seam of her jeans rubbed...she wasn't supposed to have those sorts of tingles in the White House. Her face flooded with warmth and she looked away.

"Private briefings with you wearing those jeans? I'd be up for that."

It was purely a reflex action to glance at his groin.

He shifted and coughed. "Ah, CJ?"

She'd never seen him looking so bashful. Relieved to have the upper hand for once, she decided to try and maintain her advantage...and have a little fun. "Nice snug jeans."

"Thanks?"

His facial expression was almost comical and it took some schooling to keep herself from breaking into a smile. With four steps she backed him against a row of seats and threaded her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans.

What was left of her common sense only just managed to override the tingles' demand to rub against him. Their mouths were too close when she whispered, "Show me how a private briefing would work."

"Here?" His eyes flicked between her lips and eyes as his hands came to rest on her hips. "Now?"

"Why not?" She bit the inside of her mouth as she stared at his. Feeling her control of the situation slipping away, she pulled back and sat down in the seat closest to her. "Get up there."

"Why?"

"You're going to show me how a private briefing works."

"But--"

"You chicken?" A look she'd seen too many times flashed across Danny's face and she pointed at him, warning, "Don't even think of any rooster jokes."

"You spoil all my fun," he pouted.

She studied his butt as he mounted the stage. "This could be fun."

"Maybe for you."

"My fun quota for the month is very low." Tilting her head, she attempted a coquettish expression and voice. "Help me fill it."

Danny sighed dramatically and leaned on the podium. "Hit me."

"Mmmmm." She pretended to think, drumming her fingers on her thighs. "Boxers or briefs?"

"What?" His face turned a little pink.

"You heard me."

"Couldn't we start with something easy? Like forgiving third world debt or a solution for Kashmir?"

"We'll get to them later." She gestured with her hand for him to answer.

"It depends," he started hesitantly. "Usually boxers with my work pants."

"And today?"

"Briefs."

She changed the topic before her mind went places it wasn't allowed. "What do you have in your refrigerator?" As close to a cold shower as she could get.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. What do you have in your refrigerator right now?"

"Cold pizza, left over Chinese from last week, beer, pickles--sweet and dill. . . What?" He laughed as she motioned him to continue. "You want a whole list?"

"Details are important," she quipped. "How about vegetables? Do you have lettuce, carrots--you know--real food? What if I came for dinner?"

Danny's eyes sparkled and she cut him off before he could make the joke she could see bubbling to the surface. "What would you serve me if I agreed to eat a meal with you at your table?"

"I'd order takeout."

"What if I asked you to cook me something?"

"With what I've got at home right now?" He scratched his head. "Popcorn, hotdogs, oh--wait! I know. Tacos. I can fix Tacos. Tacos with lettuce," he added with a flourish. "Of course, if you let me shop first--"

"What color are the sheets on your bed?"

"Blue."

"That was quick. You didn't need to think about it?"

"Nope."

Her eyes narrowed. "Danny, how many sets of sheets do you own?"

He held up two fingers. "Was a buy one, get one half-price sale with a very limited color range. I sleep on the right hand side of the bed, but I'm willing to swap. I'll also put pajamas on if you want me to--"

The tingles grew into throbs and crossing her legs only made it worse. Not that uncrossing helped. She needed the conversational equivalent of a slap--Danny's hand on her skin...

"CJ?"

"What?" She refocused, his self-satisfied grin confirming her fear that she might as well have 'I'm wet' tattooed across her forehead. The briefing needed to end. "Last question."

"So soon?"

"What's the one thing you want to do before you die?" She almost winced at the banality, but it was all that came to mind.

"You really want the truth?" His raised eyebrows echoed the query.

Something other than plain arousal rushed through her body as she nodded in the affirmative.

"I want to make love to you."

The soft tone and wistful expression dusted away any remaining thoughts, almost wishes she admitted, that he only harboured lustful feelings towards her. And she didn't know how she was going to deal without that layer of doubt she'd nurtured for too many years between them.

Closing her eyes and dipping her head, she tried to concentrate on calming the churning in her stomach. But she couldn't shut him out--his eyes on her, his disappointment and embarrassment--she couldn't see any of it, but she could feel it prickling across her skin.

"I've got work to do."

His resignation was as audible in his footsteps off the stage as it was in his words. And as much as she knew anything she said would make things between them even more awkward, she couldn't let him leave in silence. She had no clue what to say. Or more accurately, what she could allow herself to say.

"Danny." She stood and grabbed his wrist as he passed her row.

He refused to face her, keeping his eyes focussed on the back of the room. "Don't, CJ."

And maybe she should have let him go, allowed him to assume that it was nothing but a flirtation to her. But she was never one to take the easy way out. Especially when it came to him.

Stepping around in front of him, she brushed her palm across his cheek. "While we're telling the truth..." she decided it was time for at least a small measure of honesty, "you make me tingle."

She bit her lip as his eyes met hers. They just looked at each other, unsure where the boundaries between them were, or if they even existed anymore.

She lowered her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Stay alive for a few more years."


End file.
